Truth of Dominance
by red devil lord
Summary: Nero is sure that something is wrong with Dante, but is it really the older slayer that is off?


_Dis.:_ I don't own DMC, never will, never have. These are not my characters, merely my words.

_A. Notes:_ Figured I would test something new. Will entitle this prologue, if people want more, than do tell so.

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Truth of Dominance  
_Prologue - "You're fucking crazy!"_

Navy eyes speckled with amber befell a small, crystal ball encased by a glass cube. It was milky in texture as a smoky quartz would appear, and round like the gemstone desk balls you could buy online. The size was no larger than a baseball, fitting snuggly in its case; although its creamy nature floated around within its imprisonment and radiated crazily with a comforting whisper. Thousands of whispers, in fact. No visible edges could be detected nor felt along the sides of the glass, giving the twenty eight year old an idea that the case had been sealed, and for good reasons.

"Hey! No touching!" Came a strict yell, accompanied by heavy boot lain steps. His hand was swatted away from the cube by a rather peeved older gentleman, who still after all these years retained some youth.

"What is it?"

"It's a no touch thing," the man answered, crystal blue eyes narrowing. "That's what it is." He crossed his arms, making sure that any type of intimidating stare or intimidation was in place. It wasn't as though he was trying to scare his younger counterpart. He merely wanted the young blood to understand that this was in fact a 'no touch zone'.

Nero scoffed, setting his hands to his hips. "Yeah. I got that. I'm asking what it is."

"Why do you care?"

"Old man, why are you holding secrets as of late? You disappear late at night, don't return until a few days later. And now...the one time you do come back, this thing," Nero motioned to the whispering crystal, "is sitting on your desk like an ornament. Is it...I dunno, some type of new Devil Desk Paperweight?" If it had been a joke, it lost its edge to Dante.

"It's none of your business what it is. What I do in my spare time isn't your business either." The red and black leather clad half blood rounded his way about his desk, easing himself into his chair. "This is my place after all, I don't need to tell you what I'm doing every hour of the day. Now do I?"

"That isn't it...it's just-"

"Just what?" Dante questioned, cutting the twenty eight year off. Nero made his way to the lip of the wood, placed both hands against it and leaned forward to keep eye contact. After living with the devil slayer for five years, you learn a thing or two about conversing with him. Let it be about a job or something more deeper.

"We don't keep secrets. As of late you've been getting really snippy. Cranky too." He explained. "Did I do something? Are you tired of me being here?"

"No, I told you that _you_ shouldn't keep secrets from me, because usually it's something life threatening."

"And that shouldn't apply to you too?" Nero questioned, voice rising at the edges.

"It shouldn't. At least I know what I'm doing."

"I do too!"

Dante cocked an eyebrow at him, his calm demeanor refusing to fold. "Perhaps we should recall the previous times you have nearly gotten yourself killed, impaled, cursed, fallen into some type of ritual or badly wounded. Oh, what's that? There was a combination of those a couple of missions ago? Sounds about right to me. Now let's compare that to when I last nearly got killed. That's about...never."

"This is ridiculous," Nero pushed himself away from the desk. "It's been a fucking long time since the Fortuna incident and you still treat me like a kid. This is absolutely. Fucking. Ridiculous. No wonder Trish and Lady don't come around often. You've lost it, Dante. That's what this is." The older slayer leaned the chair back, balancing it upon its hind legs, and propped his feet on his desk. A small bit of himself enjoyed the kid's temperament. It held the same surge of watching a young one throw a tantrum after the adult and/or parent won a dominating battle, and as of late the concept of domination was all that mattered to Sparda's child.

Science would rationalize it as there being a younger male living with Dante, and that, to prove himself, the elder could be aggressive in nature. Although science never could factor in that 'devil' variable. Trish would rationalize it better, admitting to how dominance and submissive behavior between devils - even those of mix blood - was important, and Dante was only exerting that he was dominant. If Nero disliked it, he would show the behavior until he learned his place, and if that wasn't possible, then the young blood would leave. There was no 'harmony' between two dominants.

"Are you done now?" Dante questioned.

"No. I'm going for a walk or something. Maybe you'll be done with this attitude when I get back," Nero scowled, giving the elder a look that could kill. Dante's seen that look enough not to flinch. Especially from a power hungry twin. The kid had Yamato, right? The okatana was Vergil's since he could remember, and it was sure to inherit the owner's cold, belittling nature. What's the chance Nero's personality was influenced by it in the slightest? Very high, Dante figured, too high. He watched as the younger took his leave, and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A light headache was creeping behind his eyes, a chill nipping his spine, and an uncomfortable heaviness tainted with black fog gnawed at the edges of his brain.

"Goddamnit," he muttered. Guilt seeped in.


End file.
